


From Past to Present

by Blueburd



Series: Of Blood and Ash [1]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:53:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28720809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blueburd/pseuds/Blueburd
Summary: A life of servitude: Altrethir Valran has known little to nothing else. Though becoming Sith, and a Darth moreover, has granted him a sense of freedom, he is still bound to the Empire and its well-being. But when he meets an individual who causes a stir in his heart, will he choose to pursue his feelings? Or allow them to well up inside him and ignore them altogether?
Relationships: Theron Shan/Male Sith Inquisitor
Series: Of Blood and Ash [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2105463
Comments: 1
Kudos: 23





	1. The Meeting

_Sparks of lightning flew toward the artifact – but the young apprentice couldn’t tell if he was still too inexperienced with the spell, or if the relic was too resistant. Seconds passed and the lightning flickered out, though sparks still danced on his fingertips._

_“It won’t open,” the apprentice, Altrethir, muttered._

_“Why do you suppose that is?” asked Lord Sen’tulo - his master._

_He felt his gut churn. Pride was a feeling he’d come to know while discovering his abilities through apprenticeship. But so often would it be crushed or threatened – and how he_ despised _having it snatched away._

_“I am too weak,” Altrethir hesitantly replied._

_But Sen’tulo’s lips twitched into an amused smirk. “The first step in eliminating weakness is to admit there_ is _weakness.” She moved closer to the artifact, reaching out and manipulating the Force around her._

_The intricate puzzle-like lock on the box shifted and clicked. A small hiss sounded from the relic – and Altrethir narrowed his eyes in thought._

_“But humility is not today’s lesson. Today was meant to show you that there are always alternatives; simply zapping something until it gives in won’t necessarily work the way you want it to. It could break, leaving you with nothing._

_“The Force has gifted you with its powers; use them to their fullest potential.”_

* * *

Members of the Dark Council were never assigned trivial tasks, and scarcely they obliged to investigate information that could lead to a pointless cause. But after Altrethir - Darth Nox - delved further into the mysterious murder of Darth Arkous, his interest became piqued. 

And he did some investigating on his own, being discreet all-the-while. He learned that there were four key players to the whole ordeal: the former Cipher Nine of Imperial Intelligence; the former advisor to Darth Arkous; a commendable Jedi Knight known to the Republic as the Hero of Tython; and a former agent of the SIS. 

An interesting group to be certain, he thought. 

A moderate amount of time had passed since Darth Arkous fell, and since the absolute destruction the Republic brought upon Korriban. 

And now, he’d been reached out to by none other than Arkous’ former advisor. 

The call went as normally as it would have gone between two cautious Sith; neither placed all their cards on the table, and details were left vague. Still, since Altrethir did his own independent investigating, he knew that this was indeed a matter worth pursuing. 

He was off to Rishi: a planet set in the Outer Rim that dealt with pirates, smugglers and the sort. The ex-advisor, Lana Beniko, had preferred to speak in person. He’d been given rendezvous coordinates and made haste for the spot. 

The city--if one could call it such – was in shambles. No, it didn’t appear as though it’d been assaulted by a fleet of ships; everything was simply... rustic. 

Still, it held some manner of charm, Altrethir supposed. 

He dressed casually for one on the Dark Council; he was to be most discreet about his presence, and attracting the wrong eyes could compromise the entire mission. 

The meeting location was a safe house of sorts. The door had a passcode, of which Altrethir was provided with. He punched it in and entered. He felt _a_ presence, but not that of another Sith. He proceeded with caution. 

He sensed movement by the corner of his eye. 

In an instant, Altrethir flung his free hand forward to send the mysterious figure crashing into the far back wall, and he held him with a firm grip. 

“Wait-- _wait_ , hold on,” the human man said with a strain in his voice, pressure from a Force-choke squeezing his throat. “Nox--Darth Nox.” 

The Twi’lek loosened the grip on his neck but didn’t free him altogether. “I am looking for another Sith.” 

“I know you are, but she’s out right now. Put me down – I’ll explain.” 

“Drop your blaster.” 

The man hesitantly let his blaster go. 

“Both of them.” 

And he picked up the other at his hip, promptly dropping it. 

Altrethir hummed thoughtfully before releasing his hold. The man straightened his jacket and pushed back a few loose strands of hair, “Lana Beniko is who you want. I’m her… I guess I should say ‘partner’ in all of this.” 

“How do you mean?” 

“Theron Shan. SIS, formerly. Worked with Lana during the past couple months, trying to figure everything out.” 

Ah – the agent Altrethir learned about from his investigating. Yet he lacked a name and a face in the files; he couldn’t be certain if Theron was lying or not. 

Heeding caution still, Altrethir spoke, “Contact Lana, I shall need to inform her of my arrival.” 

Theron gave a nod and turned toward one of the holoterminals. He considered using his implants, but knew their new ally wouldn’t exactly want to trust a Republic agent right off the bat. The holoterminal would present communications aloud, as opposed to him and only him. 

He reached Lana in seconds- and cocked a brow, “Weird. Were you trying to reach me-?” 

“Theron, there’s been an emergency,” said the blue holo-figure of Lana. “The Nova Blades heightened their defenses on their slave encampment. They anticipated an attack and our allies have been compromised.” 

“That’s- not good. Get me the coordinates and I’ll take the ship-” 

“They’ve turrets surrounding the island. You won’t be able to fly a ship. In addition, someone needs to remain at our base.” 

“Jakarro and Ceetoo are on their way back. They’ll be here in a second and- oh, your Darth friend showed up.” 

Altrethir stepped into view of the camera, his hands folded behind his back, and Lana gave a nod. “Dark Lord, I regret that I am unable to greet you in person.” 

“There will be time for a formal meeting later,” Altrethir said. “If the forces are as strong as you make them out to be, you may need some additional help.” 

“I agree, but I would not ask that of you, my lord.” 

“You don’t need to.” He turned to Theron, “Once your associates arrive, I’m accompanying you to provide aid to your allies.” 

Theron was, understandably, hesitant. He briefly glanced between the two Sith but he gave in. He wasn’t exactly in a position to argue. “Okay. So, how do we get onto the island?” 

“I’ll transfer coordinates to a loading station. You will have to do what they did: Hide within the cargo, then be carried onto the freighter to be taken into the camp. Hopefully there will be crates big enough for the both of you.” 

“I’ve squeezed into tighter spots before,” Theron muttered, glancing down to his datapad. He looked over the coordinates and hummed thoughtfully. “That’s not too far. Now if only those two would hurry, we could get out of here.” 

They arrived at the cargo drop-off. Being discreet, Theron and Altrethir navigated the stacked crates, trying to remain hidden as they moved. And they looked for any that could be empty – ones big enough to hide in. 

But time was running short. Altrethir saw a cargo freighter in the near distance and he chewed the inside of his cheek. 

He whipped around and threw open a lid of a crate. It was... not exactly spacious, especially for what he was planning. “Get in,” he told Theron. 

“What about you?” 

“There’s no time. We’ll have to share.” 

Theron blinked, “Wait--hold on, I don’t think-” 

“Get in.” 

Theron felt his stomach drop. But as he looked overhead, he could see the freighter looming in the distance. Altrethir was right; they had little choice. 

He huffed and muttered something under his breath before climbing inside. Altrethir joined him, trying to be as respectful as he could by giving the other man space, but it wasn’t exactly easy. They secured the lid and silence swept over the two. 

Altrethir shut his eyes. He felt his surroundings; he felt the ship approaching, then their crate being loaded inside. The jostling caused Theron to bump into the other man a few times, but he’d quickly straighten back up, hugging his knees to his chest. 

It was uncomfortable and awkward as hell–-and not to mention Altrethir’s Sith aura wasn’t exactly pleasant to be in such close proximity to. 

But was that really why Theron’s heart hammered in his ears? 

Yes – of course it was, he’d tell himself. 

But even so, he’d think back to all those months ago when he learned of the new Darth that’d ascended to the Dark Council. What had particularly caught Theron’s interest was Altrethir’s species. The Empire has never been exactly warm and welcoming to non-humans or non-pureblooded Sith; Theron was a bit curious as to how a Twi’lek managed to climb the ranks so quickly – and with as much success as he did. 

And then he learned of Altrethir’s history. His past, his upbringing. Some of his achievements while finding his place in the Empire. 

His _ideals_. 

And his ideals were what caught Theron off guard most of all. He didn’t even believe his intel at first. He couldn’t. 

Altrethir expressed a manner of sympathy. Diplomacy. A calm, level-headed attitude that was scarcely seen among Sith. He was as cunning as he was powerful; he was observant and took the time to learn about his foes, even using violence as an alternative and not an immediate choice. 

Theron was utterly intrigued. He knew he shouldn’t be, yet still... 

The freighter came to a sudden halt, sending Theron lurching forward and- “Shit, sorry- sorry,” he muttered and immediately pushed himself off of Altrethir. 

“There are... five workers in total. They are likely to have droids accompanying them, and they are more likely to be armed.” 

Force-stuff, Theron figured. Altrethir had been focused the entire time; he was probably getting a feel for their enemies, calculating how many there would be. 

“We will remain here for just a moment longer,” Altrethir continued quietly, “so that we don’t risk attracting any attention.” 

And hide they did. One minute passed, then two. Three. 

Theron shifted uncomfortably, a thin sheen of sweat on his brow. They’d bake out here if they stayed for much longer. 

But, fortunately, Altrethir finally moved to open the lid. It quietly creaked open and he glanced out, scanning whatever he could see. Yes- he was right: Two assassin droids guarded the delivery platform. Theron had moved to take a look for himself and he noted the threat, pursing his lips thoughtfully. 

A spark flickered at the top of a nearby streetlamp. 

Theron began to draw one of his blasters. 

And Altrethir reached out and made a twisting motion with his hand. 

The streetlamp promptly exploded in a flash of light, giving the two droids a violent shock. Altrethir threw the lid of the crate open and dashed toward the droids. He cut through the metal effortlessly with his blade, the droids collapsing in two pieces. 

And behind the crate, where they couldn’t see, were two more droids lying in wait. 

They opened fire upon the Sith but he deflected their shots. That was Theron’s cue; he used the crate as cover and fired, landing fatal shots on each. 

“Good shooting,” Altrethir said. 

“Good thinking,” Theron complimented in turn. “Best course of action is to head where they last contacted us.” 

The encampment was, as Lana described, indeed heavily-guarded. Altrethir and Theron managed to lure two guards aside, kill them, then slip into their attire. And while Altrethir would have loved nothing more than to slaughter every last guard on this forsaken island, there was a greater mission at hand. 

They snatched up the guards’ blasters, the Sith moving his lightsaber to be concealed better by his coat, then they moved further into the island. 

Altrethir’s felt his throat tighten as the sounds of the slaves’ cries met his ears. 

He marvelously harnessed control of his emotions as an experienced Sith; yet the shouting and sounds of fists colliding with flesh created a flighty feeling in the back of his mind. It gave him flashbacks to a time he wanted to forget about.

_Do not break character; the mission could be jeopardized if you did so._

His jaw clenched and his gloves creaked quietly as he balled his fists. 

Still, anger festered in his gut. All the hatred for these cruel, unrelenting criminals would fuel his power when he needed it. 

A woman’s cry echoed from behind him – and then it was suddenly silenced. 

Chills prickled at his skin. A cold, empty feeling washed over his mind like a wave. His heart weighed him down as heavy thuds pounded in his chest. 

His peers would tell him he shouldn’t care, but such was impossible for him. 

He had, of course, been in the presence of slaves throughout his time in the Dark Council; however, being in such a position like this was _tormenting._ Altrethir had the capability to kill every single guard on this island, but he’d risk compromising the safety of their allies. 

The bigger picture was what was more important. 

He inhaled a deep breath, trying to take back whatever control he could; the Dark Side pushed and it pushed _hard_ , desperately trying to sway him into giving in to his temptations: To lash out at these monsters; to take their lives just as they’ve taken innocents’; to strip them of _their_ freedom by bringing an end to it altogether. 

He felt its whispers in his conscious. His hands twitched at his sides, his breaths became short and shallow again. 

“Here,” Theron said, taking Altrethir out of his thoughts momentarily. “Give me just a second and I can get us inside.” 

Altrethir held his stolen blaster against his chest, shifting to watch Theron’s back as he worked. And though anyone who looked to him would be shielded from his glare by his goggles, they’d certainly see the tight scowl that curled his lips. 

The panel beeped twice and Theron straightened his posture, “All set. Come on.” 

Altrethir located the Jedi and ex-cipher agent, but until he and Theron could take down the turrets, helping them escape would be pointless. They moved further through the base, avoiding suspicion wherever possible. They reached the control room. But, of course, it wasn’t without its own group of guards. Altrethir paused to think up a plan. 

“What is the name of the Nova Blade’s leader? The one who oversees this facility?” 

“Dael Margok,” Theron said. 

“Very good. Let me borrow your fake identification papers.” 

Theron raised a brow. “You don’t exactly look like Margok; they’re not gonna buy any tricks into thinking that you’re him.” 

“They won’t need to,” he beckoned for Theron to follow and they casually walked into the control room. As predicted, a guard halted them before they could get far. 

“Authorized personnel only.” 

“Kolbry Axton. Technical support,” Altrethir said, shifting into a Huttese accent. “Margok called. Said you having power outages,” he presented Theron’s fake ID papers. “Our credentials. These work fine, yes?” Altrethir reached out with the Force to persuade the guard into agreement. 

“Yes--yes, Margok said we should be expecting a tech team,” he handed Altrethir the papers back. “Get on it, then. And don’t bother me for help; I don’t know shit about any of that stuff. I just watch for intruders.” 

Altrethir and Theron moved further into the room and off to the side. He lowered his voice, switching back to his regular Imperial accent; “I am relying on you to get those turrets offline. Which control panel do you need to slice?” 

Theron peered around. “There. Far back, on the right.” 

They casually wove through the small number of workers, making their way over to the device. Theron knelt before the panel and retrieved his slicer spike and got to work. Altrethir turned around nonchalantly, pulling out his datapad to make himself look occupied. 

Something in his gut still stirred; a feeling he couldn’t shake, nor one he knew he should ignore. After a moment, he knelt beside Theron and leaned forward, “Take all power offline. Everything.” 

“I can do that, but it’ll trip some alarms for sure. You got something in mind?” 

“Yes, but we’ll need to act quick. Scramble their systems, buy us enough time to work. Once it’s down and we’re out, we’ll be on the clock.” 

Theron got to work and Altrethir stood up again, resuming his act of working from his datapad. 

After a few moments, the lights in the facility suddenly dimmed before flicking out entirely, leaving the crew in the hands of the emergency lights. Altrethir gave Theron a tap on his shoulder before briskly walking to the entrance of the room, and he followed just behind. 

The crew was in disarray and they were able to flee amidst the chaos. They ducked around a corner and into the cells where their allies were being held. Altrethir promptly executed the men who stood guard, and Theron rushed to the Jedi and agent. 

“Thank the stars you’re both in one piece,” Theron sighed in relief as he took the cell shield down. “Let’s get out of here. Lana will be on her way for pickup soon.” 

“You’ve got help from another Sith,” the Jedi said. 

“Yeah, well-” 

“Pleasantries or otherwise can wait; we’ve no time to argue,” Altrethir said. 

Lana was right on schedule. But, unfortunately, the Nova Blades quickly realized that their island had been infiltrated by even more intruders. Though the turrets were down, the Blades still pursued them. Blaster shots sailed through the air as the Jedi and agent climbed aboard, then Theron jumped onto the ramp. 

He turned. Altrethir had his lightsaber in-hand. 

“Nox--hey! No unnecessary heroics-!” 

“This is necessary, and I’m certainly not doing it for glory.” 

Before Theron could protest further, Altrethir pushed him further up the ramp with the Force and the ramp slowly closed. The ship hovered in place all for a moment before flying further away. 

“Kolbry Axton,” called a gruff voice. “Not the most convincing name. You’re bold, I’ll give you that.” Clad in heavy armor stood a large, masked guard, his voice filtered by his headgear. 

The Nova Blade guards held their fire but kept their blasters pointed straight at him, then the man continued. “We ain’t got no quarrel with the Sith, but you’ve sure caused a hell of a stir in our base. We can’t exactly let you waltz out of here.” 

No--no, Altrethir didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want negotiate as he typically would. He didn’t wish to seek compromise, nor reach any agreements. He wanted this entire island to burn, along with every slaver that practiced the cruel trade. 

And the man’s arrogance was just enough to tip him over the edge. 

“If you wanna live, how ‘bout you start by putting down that fancy blade-” 

The man flew forward and the Sith skewered him with his saber, all in the span of a second. 

The Nova Blades opened fire. Altrethir cast the corpse aside and raised two pieces of scrap metal, shielding himself on either side. With a thrust of his arm, he sent one of the sheets flying toward a group, taking them out. Using his now-freed hand, he channeled electricity through his fingers and into the other group. The shock paralyzed them, and he took the opportunity to clean up his work with his lightsaber. 

His movements were fluent; smooth, fast but calculated. Sorcery was his strong-suit, but he wasn’t untrained in the art of melee combat. And his pent-up anger from earlier fueled his strength; Altrethir lashed out with brutality--an unrelenting force that none of the Blades could hope to stop. 

When the last troop fell, another group was already rushing toward him. He exhaled a short breath and gave a small twirl of his saber, electricity sparking in his free hand as he prepared a spell. 

A ship whizzed through the air above him and immediately opened fire upon the rest of the soldiers. 

Ah, perfect timing. 

The ground exploded in debris with each blast that landed, chunks of soil and rock flying. Altrethir took off in a sprint and clicked on his comm, “Just in time, Andronikos.” 

“Sorry, Sith. Somethin’ about those coordinates made the navicomputer freak out.” 

“Continue bombardment, I’ll handle things from the ground.” 

He ran through the camp, slaying any Blades that interfered. Large metal containers--much bigger than the crate he and Theron traveled inside--sat idle near the cliffs. Altrethir fried the circuits of the control panel and the lid hissed open. He lifted it with the Force, and the people inside recoiled as they saw him. 

Altrethir tugged off his goggles and tossed them aside, “You’re getting out of here.” 

“Y-you’re not with them?” a starved human woman stammered. 

“I am Darth Nox and I am here to free you. Go; the ships by the southern northwest docks are clear. Help as many slaves as you can.” 

* * *

Theron collided against the metal wall of the ship with a grunt but he quickly scrambled to his feet. The ramp had closed, leaving Nox down with the Blades all by himself. 

But he was Sith--he could handle himself, right? 

And, more importantly, he was _Sith_. 

Why did Theron care? He was the enemy, only agreeing to work together in order to solve a mutual problem. Were it not for the chaos Revan ensued, he and Nox would no doubt be at each other's throats. 

Though tense and conflicted, he took a breath and applied logic to the situation; Nox was an ally, temporary or not, and a powerful one at that. 

Theron whipped around and rushed into the cockpit, “Turn around, we’ve got to help him.” 

“They may have the turrets back online if we delay. The Dark Lord knew what he was doing; he wants us to leave,” Lana said calmly--a little too calmly for Theron’s liking. 

He sneered and brushed past their allies whom they’d rescued to look out the back window. And he narrowed his eyes at what he saw: The Nova Blades ceased fire. Nox was conversing with one who looked to be heavily armored, but-… 

Lana took the ship higher and away from the island, until Nox and the Blades were out of sight. 

A thought wedged itself into his mind: Why wasn’t Nox fighting? Why weren’t the _Blades_ fighting? Unless… 

They were allied. 

No--that couldn’t be the case. Lana made absolutely certain that Nox was on their side, fighting this battle with them, not the Revanites. Even so, if this man was as cunning as he was deceptive, he could have had Lana fooled. He could have had them _all_ fooled. 

None of his suspicions had been confirmed, but Theron internally braced for another betrayal. 

He leaned against the wall, keeping silent for the rest of the flight back to Raider’s Cove. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This is more of a side-project but one I'm still excited to work on nonetheless! If you'd like to keep up with my swtor shenanigans, find me on tumblr @blueburds! And for swtor art, @kitblueburdart <3


	2. The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Altrethir discusses his situation with his companions and decides how the alliance with Lana Beniko should be continued. As he heads back into Raider's Cove, he bumps into a bit of trouble along the way.

_From within the training grounds, the sounds of a_ _vibroblade_ _rang_ _; it sliced through the air to collide with the giant slug. After the beast took a hard enough beating, it keeled over._

_Altrethir straightened his posture, panting softly through his mouth._

_“Your fear gives you strength,” said Lord Sen’tulo from afar. “But instinct alone won’t be enough to save you in certain situations.”_

_Altrethir turned, looking up to his master but kept quiet._

_“And if you aren’t careful,” she continued, “you may do something you come to regret. Your emotions are like fuel: Fuel for the fire of your passion. But just as an uncontrolled fire may rapidly spread and create destruction, so may your power.”_

_“Jedi think similarly,” Altrethir said._

_“In a sense. The Jedi ignore one of their most useful tools – which are, of course, their feelings. One’s feelings may cloud their judgement, but they may also determine the outcome of their battle.” Sen’tulo made an outward gesture with her hand, “You have company.”_

_Altrethir_ _turned—and lurched out of the way of another slug. He could feel his adrenaline kicking in; his heart beat faster in his chest and he clenched his jaw._

_Control._

* * *

Altrethir took a sickening pleasure in killing every Blade, having seen the way they treated the people they captured to auction off. Their cries before death were music to his ears; they motivated him all-the-more. 

He caught a large piece of debris that flew his way with the Force, then flung it onto a fleeing group of Blades. And he deflected blasterfire from other pirates before reaching out and crushing their windpipes. 

Flames engulfed the camp and he knew that he’d need to leave before the smoke suffocated him. Was his job done? He’d freed as many slaves as he could and killed as many Blades as he could find. 

“Andronikos,” Altrethir said into his comm, “head to the landing platform on the southern end of the island. I’ll meet you there.” 

For all the credit Altrethir gave himself, fatigue had begun to find its way into him. He’d use breathing techniques to steady himself as he sprinted toward the meeting location, and would stop from time to time to open any other crates holding slaves to free them. 

That had to be the last of them, he thought. 

He watched his starship lower toward the platform and the ramp opened. Khem Val, his rather frightening Dashade companion, pulled him up effortlessly. And once they were on board, he marched into the cockpit. 

“Cut it a little close, Sith,” Andronikos said, starting to bring the ship back up. “We headin’ back to the Cove?” 

Altrethir gripped the back of the co-pilot's seat, peering out at the island. He saw a final group of slaves fleeing toward the docks where others were waiting to help them escape. And further back, a pack of Blades opened fire upon them. 

“Burn it all.” 

Andronikos tossed him a hesitant look. 

“Avoid the docks. Aim for the base – and any other Blades you see.” 

“ _Your eyes burn with rage, but your body aches for rest,_ ” Khem Val commented in his own tongue of Dashade – a language Altrethir knew. 

“I am resting,” Altrethir muttered- and flinched as Talos inserted a needle into his skin. Since he’d discarded his armor in favor for a disguise, he had been prone to a couple of blastershots. Nothing fatal, but something that shouldn’t be ignored. 

“You never cease to impress, my lord,” Talos said. “Andronikos said you made quick work of those nasty pirates.” 

“They were graced with swift deaths—which were more mercy than they deserved.” 

“ _This was no call for justice. You slaughtered pitiful pirates to free a Jedi,_ ” said Khem Val. 

“And an Imperial operative. The two have been crucial in the grand scheme of things; and to earn their trust – as well as their comrades’ – it had to be done.” 

“ _Why do we need their trust? They let two of their people get captured. They are incompetent and will soon fall. You delay the inevitable by helping them._ ” 

“They withheld information.” 

Khem Val narrowed his eyes in interest and Talos arched a brow. 

“Granted, I had little time to speak with Lana Beniko. I shall give her the benefit of the doubt and assume that this is information she didn’t wish to discuss over a holocall.” Altrethir shifted, arching his back a little as Talos secured bandages around his torso. “The Blades are working with Revan.” 

“ _The conflicted Jedi is dead,_ ” Khem Val said. “ _With our own eyes, we watched him die._ ” 

“No,” Altrethir shook his head. “He disappeared. Even his presence in the Force felt... uncertain. I was not convinced he died then.” 

Khem Val crossed his arms over his broad chest, keeping silent in thought. Talos fastened the bandages and stood up straight, his own brow furrowed; “Revan had a cult on Dromund Kaas. Is it possible they are responsible for everything?” 

“Very,” Altrethir said. “Though they were small in numbers, they could have rapidly grown.” 

“ _We should not trust the Sith and her allies,_ ” Khem Val said. “ _You should take this matter into your own capable hands._ ” 

“Cooperation, I do believe you’ll find, is quite beneficial,” Altrethir said calmly. “While I am not exactly pleased that they withheld this crucial intel from me, I cannot say that I blame them for it. An understanding approach is what is needed; only from there, we may make progress.” 

Khem Val couldn’t sneer. He couldn’t smile, either. But Altrethir learned to read the muscles that flexed and relaxed in his face, as if those expressions were a language in and of itself. The creased brow, squinting eyes and the slight flare of the ridges of flesh above his lips all indicated one thing: Irritation. 

The hulking creature shifted in place and without exchanging anymore words, he left. 

Talos let out a small sigh of relief as they were left to themselves; “I do not mean to speak out of line, my lord...” 

“Speak freely,” Altrethir said. 

“Very well. While I did not understand everything he said, I could get the general feel of the conversation you were having. All that to say: I do believe he raises some worthwhile concerns. Is the Republic as involved as it sounds like they are?” 

“As far as I am aware, it is only the Jedi and a former agent of the SIS.” 

Talos gave a small nod, putting medical supplies away. “Are they trustworthy, my lord?” 

“The Jedi was more difficult to read. The agent, though...” Altrethir trailed off in thought, pursing his lips as he folded his hands atop his lap. “The agent expressed concern and sympathy toward me. In him, I could sense confliction: A want to trust, but something held him back. Understandable, I suppose.” 

“Given his former line of work, I should certainly say so.” Talos closed a cabinet and passed Altrethir a clean shirt. 

“Now that I know Revan is part of this entire ordeal, it is absolutely something I cannot abandon. I need more information, and from there I may determine if the Dark Council needs to become involved.” 

“A sound plan.” 

With the other man’s assistance, Altrethir pulled on the new shirt and adjusted it. He dressed in fresh attire, draping his lekku around his neck and shoulders like that of a scarf. He pulled on a sleeveless coat and fixed a sash around his waist. And finally, he wrapped himself in a dark gray cloak; he fixed the fabric around the lower half of his face and pulled the hood up. 

Talos gave him a confident smile, “How dashing, my lord! You’ll blend right in.” 

Altrethir gave him a small smirk before leaving the medbay. 

Before he could enter the cockpit to check in with his pilot, he felt Ashara’s gaze from the corridor. He turned, meeting the eyes of his apprentice. She made her way over, offering a small dip of her head in respect. 

“What did you hear?” Altrethir asked, knowing she’d been listening in to their conversation. 

“I- well, not a lot.” Ashara paused, shifting her weight to the side. “I was thinking: I have my ties to the Republic, to the Jedi. Tensions are high between you and these new ‘allies,’ right? I thought that if I maybe come with you, it could ease some of that tension.” 

“Your intentions are well-placed; however, that may have the opposite effect.” 

“No- it won’t. How could it? I’m proof that you can see past affiliations and upbringings.” Once more, she paused and frowned. “Unless- this isn’t a sort of mission you think I’m ready for?” 

“This is a mission I must take alone,” Altrethir gently said. “If I attempt to force them into thinking they can trust me, then I will leave the wrong impression. I need to do what I can without assistance.” 

“Are you sure that’s not just your pride talking?” 

“I am.” 

Ashara’s gaze fell. She huffed a small sigh, admittedly disappointed that she was left to stay with the ship again. “Okay,” she muttered. 

“The time shall arise when I require your assistance. And when it does, I’ll let you know.” 

* * *

Altrethir wove through the crowd, keeping his cloak wrapped snugly around his face. Under one concealed arm, he carried a parcel. Were he merely some pirate or wandering traveler, perhaps he wouldn’t have felt a hand reaching to steal the lightsaber at his belt. 

But the Force granted him abilities to sense his surroundings. 

Just as the thief thought they could secure a fancy new weapon, the Sith promptly turned and caught their wrist with a firm grip. And they stared to him with a fearful expression, swallowing dryly. 

“You’re going to return home, forget that I was here,” Altrethir said, waving his free hand as he Force-persuaded the thief. He let them go and they stumbled backward before wandering away. 

Altrethir frowned beneath his mask, hooking his lightsaber back onto his belt and pushing it further behind him to be hidden by his cloak. 

How he hoped that little encounter didn’t draw attention. Certainly the folk on this side of the Galaxy knew of Jedi, of Sith and even those in between; but that wasn’t what concerned him. He couldn’t be recognized; if the Dark Council discovered that he was working with the assassins of Darth Arkous, he’d likely have his position revoked. 

Or, in other words, he’d be killed. 

Was he risking too much for all of this? That should have been a question he asked himself before committing – and he did, granted, but something now pushed him into reconsideration. 

“Hey, you,” came a gruff woman’s voice. 

Altrethir had a feeling that was directed toward him but he ignored it. And if it was, she’d all but continue to follow him. So he ducked around a corner, moving down a ramp into the lower parts of Raider’s Cove. 

He could still sense that presence. 

He didn’t bother to look behind him nor stop – but a large hand clasped his shoulder and spun him around. 

The Devaronian woman recoiled just a bit as his eyes pierced hers, as if she’d suddenly felt that dreadful aura Sith carry with them. But that didn’t seem to frighten her away; “That weapon. Who’d you steal it from?” 

“Have no weapon,” Altrethir said, switching into the same Huttese accent he used to fool the Nova Blade guard. 

But she only cocked a brow, “Don’t try playing stupid. Saw you almost get mugged, and I also saw what that thief tried to snatch. Now where’d you get it?” 

“Won it in Sabacc. Did not _steal_.” 

“Yeah? You’re a pretty bad liar.” 

Altrethir restrained himself from rolling his eyes. No, he wasn’t. She was trying to intimidate him. Perhaps he could be mistaken for an easy target; he was tall, but had little muscle on him. But he didn’t need muscle to hurl lightning at his foes. 

“And _you_ a pretty annoying lady,” he said, brushing past her. Further down looked more secluded. If it came to it, he’d lead her down there and kill her-. 

His Force-sensitivity peaked. 

Altrethir ducked to avoid the hook of the woman’s fist. He whipped around and lurched out of the way of another hit, making a conscious effort not to draw his lightsaber. He needed to play this act through to the end – or at least until he could get her out of sight. 

He took to defensives, using the time that he blocked and dodged to observe her fighting pattern. From his own knowledge in fist-fighting – which, granted, wasn’t extensive – he didn’t notice any particular styles. If anything, it looked like that of awkward street-fighting. 

Then if that was the case, this fight shouldn’t last much longer. 

With Force-speed, he dodged another fist. And he took her arm then caught the other fist that sailed toward his face. Altrethir wrenched both arms around her back, making her grunt in pain. She head-butted him, causing him to see stars all for a moment as she took back the advantage. 

She kicked his shin – _hard_ – causing his knees to buckle and take him to the ground. She’d probably broken the bone- what the hell was in the toe of her boot? He was provided with no recovery; as soon as he fell, she grabbed his shoulders and kneed him in the gut. As he panted through gritted teeth and tried to recover, she clutched the front of his robes and yanked him up. 

This was _humiliating_. He very much had the means to kill this woman, but at the cost of compromising his mission; his allies' safety; his seat on the Dark Council; his _life_. 

But at the sound of a new blaster, the woman suddenly let go and toppled to the ground. Before Altrethir could even comprehend what’d happened, he was snatched up by his arm and was being led back up the ramp into the upper level of the Cove. Whoever grabbed him was also masked, disguised. 

When they stopped, Altrethir clenched his jaw in pain, stopping himself from leaning down to check his leg. 

“Not the route I would’ve taken to get back to base. But hey, what do I know?” 

Altrethir blinked. “Theron?” 

The agent pulled down the fabric concealing his lower face, giving Altrethir a small nod; “Yeah, thought you could use a hand.” 

“The assistance is appreciated-” Altrethir grunted in pain, clenching his fists as he tried his damnedest to ignore it. 

“We gotta make ourselves scarce. The blaster was set to stun; she’ll be back up soon.” Instinctively, Theron wanted to reach out to offer further aid to his companion. But halfway through his gesture, he hesitantly withdrew his arm, reminding himself just _who_ his companion was. Not only was he Sith, he was also likely prideful – and he probably would have just rejected any further help altogether. 

Altrethir had already begun breathing and mental techniques to try and ease his pain. It would have to do until they could reach the base. 

* * *

“Y’know, Jedi, I never thought I’d be patchin’ up another Sith,” said the Jedi’s companion, who went by “Doc.” 

“How bad is it?” asked the Jedi herself – Alu’na Vess. 

“Got busted up pretty bad. Surprised the tibia’s not broken, but you’re gonna have a hell of a bruise,” Doc gave Altrethir a small but casual pat on his shoulder. 

And Altrethir couldn’t help but frown. He’d successfully transitioned from one medbay into another all in the span of an hour. Just his typical luck, he supposed. He winced as the man applied a small amount of pressure to his leg, but took a breath to relax. 

“Theron discovered comm transmissions from the Nova Blades that traced back to the slave encampment,” said Alu’na. “It wasn’t until we made it back to base that we realized the reason you stayed. You helped all those people who were going to be auctioned off; you saved them from a terrible life. Thank you.” 

“Slavery is not a matter I can simply sit quiet about,” Altrethir muttered. “I am aware that there are some individuals in this small alliance that wouldn’t approve of my choices; but I took a calculated risk and returned successful. That is what matters.” 

“I suppose it is,” Alu’na said. 

Altrethir’s gaze shifted behind her. From around the corner, he watched Theron casually walk into the room. He held a focused expression, his brows were slightly knit - out of concern, perhaps. Altrethir fidgeted a little in his seat as Doc further inspected his injury. 

Then Doc stood with a grunt, brushing off his hands. “Okay - so, keep off that leg for a while. Keep it on ice, and...” he turned, then turned again, brows furrowing as he looked for something. He leaned over and plucked a small bottle from the counter, checking its label before passing it to Altrethir. “Pop one of these. It’ll ease the pain.” 

“Agent Shan,” Altrethir called, carrying his parcel and approaching Theron. He presented the package to him, “Your jacket.” 

Theron glanced between him and the parcel, having forgotten about leaving that behind on the island in favor for the disguise. Hesitantly he reached to take it, opening it to see and feel the familiar bright red fabric. “Thanks,” he said. “Hope you didn’t get shot getting this back.” 

“No. No, not at all.” 

Theron gave a nod. Admittedly, he felt awkward – and he probably looked it, too. Desperate times called for desperate allies – and frankly, he was more than grateful that the two Sith he was having to work with were as... _tame_ , as they were. No mindless killing, no pointless destruction. 

Though, when Lana made drastic calls, they always had an understandable reason – even if Theron didn’t think the ends justified the means. But Altrethir? Perhaps it was still too early to tell what his methods of thinking were. 

“So, Lana’s caught you up with everything? Revan and all?” 

“She has.” 

“Good.” Theron paused. “Look, I know you found out about- well, everything, through the Nova Blades. Lana and I didn’t mean to put you off and we’d still appreciate the help if you can spare it.” 

The look Theron received threatened to send chills down his spine. While Altrethir wore an overall neutral expression, his half-lidded stare made Theron’s skin crawl. Those _eyes_ – those beady, scarlet eyes. Just how far into the Dark Side did he have to venture to get irises so red? Theron only knew Sith to have a golden gaze: A physical side-effect the Dark Side of the Force granted its bearers. 

But despite - what Theron interpreted as - his glare, Altrethir’s voice kept its typical, monotone pitch; “There was little time to discuss it. Holo-channels are seldom as secure as they seem. And when I arrived, we were already thrown into action.” 

“Fair points.” 

“I am not holding it against you, but I should hope that I will not be kept in the dark about crucial matters in the future.” 

Theron nodded and swallowed dryly. He wasn’t trying to intimidate him- and stars, like hell Theron would _let_ a Sith intimidate him anyway. Yet he felt something churn in his gut. No, not guilt, nor fear. His brows furrowed as he tried to push the feeling aside. 

“As a show of good faith,” Altrethir continued, taking Theron out of his thoughts, “I recovered something you may find of use.” He presented his holodevice, clicked a few buttons and a projection of images appeared above it. 

Theron looked it over with interest. “References to the group of Mandalorians that were allies of the Revanites.” 

“From what I’ve gathered, they are led by someone called ‘Torch.’ And their location,” Altrethir pressed another button; the holo-images flickered and changed, presenting a map, “is here.” 

Theron looked it over. If the map was accurate, and if those coordinates weren’t ones tossed into the files to throw off- well, people like _them_ , then that would indeed be the best-case scenario. But, as a man who took _some_ precautions at least, he’d need to run the new information by his current intel to see if it checked out. 

“That’s a big help, actually,” he said, straightening his posture. “Maybe if we can have a chat with Torch, they’ll give us some new intel.” 

“My thinking precisely,” Altrethir said. “I recommend sending those with the best diplomatic skills, but also those who are best-suited for combat.” 

Theron lofted a brow, “You want to send our best fighters?” 

“From what we know of Torch, they seem to be a true Mandalorian through and through. If they follow their creed and code, then we can expect our allies to face a challenge before they allow them a chance to speak. A test, agent, if you will.” 

“You sure they won’t just kill them?” 

“Torch opposes the Revanites and now the Blades. They backed off – not on good terms, but there was no bloodshed. And if Agent Alamor’s pirate façade is as good as you say it is, Torch will know his face; they will know that he, too, opposes the Blades.” 

Theron nodded. Valid points, he supposed. “So, you want to send him. Who else?” 

“The Jedi would be wise to have for close-quarters combat, and additional protection overall.” Altrethir paused. “But, perhaps this is a conversation we should discuss with everyone else.” 

“Yeah, agreed. Meet me back in the meeting room, I’ll grab everyone.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! And thank you to Sleepswithvillains for giving me some great feedback on this chapter! I post swtor shenanigans at @blueburds on tumblr, and swtor art at @kitblueburdart <3


	3. The Consensus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a meeting, Altrethir takes Agent Alamor and Alu’na to negotiate with the Mandalorian leader, Torch. Back at headquarters, Theron considers who he can trust and who he can’t rely on.

_Altrethir_ _fell to the ground with a_ thud _, his_ _vibroblade_ _slipping from his grasp. He snatched it back up and swiped at the opposing_ _Nexu_ _again, ultimately missing. The animal’s tail flicked back and forth as it hissed, then it sprung toward him. He leapt out of the way and landed a killing strike to its back._

_And he felt something—something in the back of his mind that triggered his flight reflex._

_Before he could react, a new_ _Nexu_ _darted from the shrubs and tackled him to the ground. He wrestled with the_ _creature,_ _his eyes flown wide open in fear._

_There was a sudden flash of lightning and the_ _Nexu_ _shrieked before falling limp. And_ _Altrethir_ _quickly pushed it off of him, standing and panting hard._ _Sen’tulo_ _met his eyes as her arm slowly fell back at her side._

_“You failed to anticipate a new_ _Nexu’s_ _attack,” she said flatly._

 _Altrethir_ _swallowed dryly, gripping the hilt of his_ _vibroblade_ _. “I—I am not yet in tune with my senses. Not like you.”_

_“You didn’t necessarily have to be._ _Nexu_ _are pack creatures; they attack prey in groups. Knowing who or what you face in combat is essential to overcoming your foe.”_

_Altrethir’s_ _gaze fell thoughtfully as he contemplated her teachings. And just as before, his Force-sensitivity peaked. This time, he whipped around to land a vertical slice to a pouncing_ _Nexu_ _, killing it with the blow._

_Sen’tulo_ _smirked._

* * *

“Our new ally’s given us some interesting intel,” Theron said, plugging a datacard into the console. Holo images appeared on screen. “There. The group of Mandalorians Margok mentioned in that call I was able to snag. Their leader goes by Torch, and their location,” with a press of a button, the images shifted into a map, “is here.” 

“This intel checks out, Theron?” Alu’na asked. 

“Yeah—spent the last hour running it by information we already have.” Theron glanced to Altrethir expectantly. 

And Altrethir took that as his cue to present his plan; “I suggest sending Agent Alamor and the Jedi to negotiate with Torch. Given the agent’s reputation as his pirate character, Torch will have no doubt heard of him. They will know that he is enemies with the Nova Blades.” 

“The Mandalorians likely won’t be open to negotiations,” Alu’na said. “Anyone who steps on their turf will probably be met with flamethrowers and detonators.” 

“Torch appears to be Mandalorian through and through, adhering to their code and honor,” Altrethir continued. “And from what we’ve learned, they are a respectable leader. Strong leaders will recognize an opportunity for an alliance that may benefit them. 

“In addition, I offer the protection for you and Agent Alamor by means of my starship. My captain and I have located an area in which we may lie in wait. In the off-chance that the Mandalorians don’t cooperate, we may either pick you up for escape, or provide aerial persuasion for the Mandalorians.” 

“And by ‘aerial persuasion’ you mean you’d level the place?” Theron said. 

“In the events of our own allies being in danger, I would organize such a threat, yes. We should have little resistance; the Mandalorians are few in number.” Altrethir shifted the discussion and clasped his hands behind his back. “But we’ve a high chance of successfully arranging negotiations with Torch.” He nodded toward Alamor, “You’ve said little, but I know of your reputation. You are charismatic and quick-thinking.” 

“Yes, my lord,” Alamor said with a small bow of his head. “I’m confident I can complete this task.” 

Altrethir’s gaze shifted toward Alu’na. She pursed her lips, thinking everything over; and even without using the Force, he could tell she wasn’t exactly excited to put this plan into action. “If you have anything to add, Jedi, I encourage you to do so.” 

“No. It's a sound plan. If it gets us one step closer to stopping Revan, then it’s a step we’ll take,” Alu’na said. 

He lied in wait, keeping his comm channel open for any updates from Alamor and Alu’na. Altrethir turned slowly in the pilot’s seat, finding himself growing somewhat restless. No, it was not the Dark Side that urged him to rush into the base and slaughter the Mandalorians; it was the feeling that he knew he should be doing something, but didn’t quite know _what_ to do. 

He sat up straight and focused on his breathing pattern. Slow to inhale, slow to exhale. Perhaps that would calm his nerves. 

But his Force-sensitivity alerted him to a presence. He spun around just enough to meet Ashara’s gaze, and he stood to properly address her. 

“My lord,” she said, offering Altrethir a datapad. “It took a while, but Andronikos knew a couple old tricks. He was able to access what we were looking for.” 

“Thank you. You are dismissed.” 

Ashara gave a small dip of her head before taking her leave. Altrethir sank back down into the chair and crossed a leg over the other. He scanned the text upon the screen, eyes narrow in focus. 

OPERATION END GAME 

Threat level: Very high/07 

Assessment: 4/01-0 _ednant Spear_ —a prototype battlecru-0/r capable of traveling at incredibly fast speeds. The ship, an experim/-62 project of the late Darth Mekhis, was a great threat to the Republic’s safety. Supreme C0-mander Jace Malcom organized a plan to destroy the _Spear,_ and the plan was executed by Jedi Master Gnost-Dural and SIS A0-/t Theron Shan. 

_Curious_ , Altrethir thought. He had, of course, heard of the incident involving the catastrophe of the aforementioned _Ascendant Spear._ The ship was designed in such a way that its commander required a strong connection with the Dark Side. It was controlled through an advanced system of cybernetics—truly a remarkable prototype. 

But its captain was overconfident—as overconfidence appeared to be a common feature to every Sith’s inevitable demise. She was foolishly lured into a trap set by the Republic, thus costing the Empire one of its best ships. 

Altrethir read further. There were details regarding the operation, details about the ship he already knew of, and other persons of note—none of whom he recognized by name. When he reached the end of the report, he swiped to the next screen. 

From what he gathered, and continued to gather, his allies all had rather closed mindsets. Lana and Theron in particular. They’d not worked with members of the opposing faction—not to his knowledge. And given the remarks and looks they’d give one another, Altrethir would think his assumption correct. 

Still, their motives benefited their own respected factions at the end of the day. Both the Empire and Republic would actually be able to _survive_ , for instance. If nothing else, they were quite loyal to their factions. 

Which should have been reason enough for Altrethir to trust them. Still, something didn’t sit right in the back of his mind. 

Altrethir leaned back in his seat, having found himself distracted from reading. 

He glanced to the comm terminal. Nothing. No new alerts or notifications. 

He’d reached the end of the files Ashara and Andronikos acquired for him. Opening up a personal document, he typed in the new information he learned through those files. It seemed as though he and Theron both lived quite exciting lives. 

Before he could finish a sentence, the comm device beeped. And Altrethir leaned over to click it on, “Come in, agent.” 

“We’ve met with Torch,” said Alamor. “She requests that you and your crew leave your ship. Her scouts have you in their sights.” 

Altrethir raised a brow. A bluff, perhaps, but it wasn’t a risk he wanted to take. He could have miscalculated her numbers. “I shall instruct my crew to wait just outside my ship. Tell her there are six members in total, including myself.” 

“Acknowledged. Torch has also requested your presence.” 

“Then she will have it. I shall make my way to the base as soon as I inform my crew.” 

“I’ll let her know,” Alamor said, then ended the call. 

The Mandalorian hideout became more impressive the further Altrethir ventured inside. From the braziers that provided a dim but intimidating source of light, to the imposing statues and trophies acquired by the Mandalorians themselves—everything about their base breathed their culture. It was magnificent, truly, and even in the more pressing circumstances, he took the time to appreciate the sights as he walked. 

Of course, the décor didn’t distract him from what he felt through the Force. He could feel eyes upon him, watching from a distance. The Mandalorians were cautious as they had every right to be; but he’d remain calm. He was here on a matter of diplomacy through and through. 

Toward the end of a walkway stood two guards. Altrethir approached and gave a polite dip of his head, “Darth Nox of the Dark Council. Torch has requested to speak with me.” 

“Right inside,” one of the guards said. Then they moved aside, pushing open the double doors that led into a grand meeting room. And just as the rest of their base was decorated, so was the room—and at the far end, Altrethir spotted his two allies. 

And along with them, at the end of the table that sat in the middle of the room, was a woman he didn’t recognize. But judging by the appearance of her armor and her position at the table, it was easy to realize that she was Torch. 

“My crew stands patiently outside my ship,” Altrethir said. “And I am here. Darth Nox of the Dark Council; it is a pleasure to meet you, Torch.” 

Torch lofted a brow to him, shifting and setting her helmet on the table. “You’re the one behind everything, but you weren’t about to bother to come here yourself. You sent your lackeys to do the dirty-work. Whatever you want, it must not be that important to you.” 

“You misunderstand,” Altrethir replied calmly. “No single individual is behind anything that we are a part of. The Jedi, agent and I are working in a combined effort to down a common foe: Revan.” 

“But you’re the one who set this little scheme in action. What’s my time really worth to you if you can’t be bothered to meet with me yourself?” 

“A valuable contributor must prove that they are flexible, able to adjust accordingly to their situation. I am as useful in combat as I am out of combat.” 

Torch took her helmet under her arm and made her way around the table, walking toward Altrethir with a very subtle bounce in her step. She walked with pride but not arrogance, he noted. 

“Your companions passed my tests, but they haven’t taken the last. You'll be taking that one, Nox.” 

“And we may speak in regards to Revan once I’ve passed?” 

Torch nodded, “Yes. Take that lift, it’ll bring you down.” She pulled her helmet back on and gave a final look to the Sith before leaving. 

* * *

Theron tapped at the keys of the computer, his eyes narrowed in focus. Information was becoming scarce; without intel from Torch, they may as well be going in circles. Nox and the others were their biggest hope in learning more. 

If they had any scouts, those could have been sent to search the wilds. Agent Alamor would have been ideal for that job, Theron supposed; it was unfortunate Nox had deemed him crucial to his own mission. 

He huffed a small sigh as the same images appeared on his screen. And he glanced over his shoulder, watching Jakarro polish his crossbow and Lana typing away at her own computer. 

He turned his focus back to his screen. Was he paranoid? Maybe a little—but his distrust was justified. He could trust Jakarro, even the protocol droid the Wookie carried with him. But Lana? 

Theron had a bad feeling about her. Of course, he had a bad feeling about _any_ Sith as it was. She wasn’t any exception. 

He could tell she was scheming; planning something that she wouldn’t tell him about. Her wording, body-language, and mannerisms gave it away. And he knew that if she were given the opportunity during this entire ordeal, she’d take swipes at the Republic. 

No—he didn’t expect Lana to suddenly cast aside everything she stood for. But he would at least hope for someone who could see the bigger picture. 

And where did that leave the other Sith who’d been dragged into this mess? Nox, Theron wanted to believe for simplicity’s sake, shared a similar mindset to Lana’s. He was pragmatic but not heartless; he enacted his plans with rationality, reason. If it weren’t for the dreadful aura Nox carried with him, Theron would think he was Jedi. 

If it weren’t for the pale skin that was scarred but still looked soft to the touch. 

If it weren’t for the subtle veins adorning his cheeks and neck, making Theron wonder if they ventured any lower beneath his robes. 

If it weren’t for the vibrant scarlet of his irises, of which Theron found intimidating in all the worse ways—but still couldn’t help but feel captivated by them. 

He felt his breath catch in his throat. Oh, stars—the hell was he thinking? Those features weren’t attractive: They were _threatening_. Nox was _Sith_. 

The only true ally he had right now was the Jedi, ironically enough. 

He was quickly pulled away from his thoughts. Simultaneously, he felt hands grab his shoulders and Jakarro roar angrily. 

Theron was spun around and faced with a masked humanoid. Jakarro fired his crossbow at the assaulter and Theron tried to duck, but the masked man drew his own blaster and fired retaliating shots. 

Two more similarly-dressed humanoids suddenly appeared, as if they’d been stealthed. They took on Jakarro whilst the initial attacker fought with Theron—and Theron was handling himself all right for the time being. He’d slipped out of the larger man’s hold, using the sudden rush of adrenaline to strengthen his punches. 

With everything happening all at once, he almost didn’t notice Lana calmly stand. And from the doorway appeared a lightsaber-wielding figure, clad in Revanite attire. They ignited their purple blade and rushed Jakarro, effortlessly slicing his crossbow in two before shoving him against the wall with a Force-push. The two assassins that were on the Wookie suddenly jumped Theron—and he was quickly overwhelmed. 

Jakarro roared, brushed off his pain and tried to rush back in to help Theron. But he was held back by an invisible force—and while he tried his damnedest to break free, he couldn’t. He glanced to the side and saw Lana with her arm extended out toward him, her expression stern. 

A punch landed Theron’s jaw, making him see stars for a moment—but his reflexes kicked in and he dodged another swipe. “Toxicity seven,” he blurted in quick-thinking. He balled his fist and managed to get his knuckles against the neck of an assassin, then a dart launched from his bracer and pierced his attacker’s skin. The assassin lurched away as a violent electrical surge coursed through their body, successfully taking them out of the skirmish. 

Theron evaded a kick that would have knocked him down, and he pivoted on his heel to dodge the large man’s attempt to seize him. Snatching his blaster from his holster, Theron landed a shot on the assassin and plunged his boot into their back, sending them crashing into the large man. While he was distracted, Theron fired at him, too. 

And that was when Theron noticed that Jakarro hadn’t rejoined the fight. Or—he was being restrained. 

His eyes widened in confused anger as he saw Lana holding back the furious Wookie. 

“ _Lana_ ,” Theron growled through clenched teeth. 

In the blink of an eye, he flew back against the wall with a loud _clang_. No, Lana didn’t do that—but the Revanite did. He glared to the masked Force-user, his chest heaving with every breath. He fought against the invisible restraints but to no avail. 

Two more assassins appeared from their cover of stealth. Great—just what he needed. But he began to hear voices, whispers, that soothed and calmed his mind.

 _A mind_ _trick_ _._ No—he had to fight it. 

His eyelids grew heavy, he felt his limbs numbing. 

He was defenseless. 

With one last, desperate effort, he signaled Nox’s ship with his implants before drifting off to sleep. 

* * *

Torch stumbled backward as Altrethir pointed his crimson blade toward her. She panted softly, raising a hand in defeat. Tugging off her helmet, she gave her opponent a firm nod; “ _Kandosii_. Well fought.” 

The Sith sheathed his lightsaber and hooked the weapon back onto his belt. “You worked with the Revanites. Tell me what you know about them: Their plans, location of camps and bases, and so forth.” 

“Straight to business, eh? All right,” Torch straightened up, tucking her helmet under her arm. “We fought with the Blades and the Revanites. Turf wars, really. Then they started holding secrets from us—but we knew they were planning something bigger. Larger battles that’d become wars.” She shifted, a frown finding her features. “I’ve been in my fair share of wars. I don’t want part in any more.” 

Altrethir nodded understandingly. If anything else, Torch was the type to prefer fighting for sport—not for wars with no guaranteed outcome. 

“But you asked for details that can help you beat them, not my life story,” she continued. “The Revanites got a whole fleet of warships hidden on the island somewhere. Details like the coordinates weren’t ever shared with me, but I know they’re here.” 

“There are only a number of places they can hide such large ships,” Altrethir murmured in contemplation. “I shall run the intel by my associates. While their larger intentions with the ships are obvious, do you happen to know how they will go about executing their plans?” 

“I don’t. Wish I did, but those were the kinds of things they kept secret from me.” She began to walk with him back toward the lift. “If you ever take the fight to Revan, you be sure to give me a call.” 

“Noted. For now, I shall take my companions and crew and return to my ship.” 

“I’ll recall my scouts. _Ret'urcye_ _mhi_ , Nox.” 

Altrethir met back up with Alu’na and Alamor and the three made their way out of the Mandalorian headquarters. They discussed the information Altrethir received after his battle with Torch, theorizing on the whereabouts of the warships she mentioned. Soon, the Revanites would take their fighting into space—and that meant they were getting only closer to directly assaulting the Empire and Republic. 

They loaded onto Altrethir’s starship, his crew members following them inside. And when he made his way to the cockpit, he noticed the comm beeping. 

The signal traced back to their base. 

He gave the word and Andronikos set the ship for takeoff, making haste to back to their headquarters. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! And thank you to Sleepswithvillains for helping me refine this chapter! I post swtor shenanigans at @blueburds on tumblr, and swtor art at @kitblueburdart <3


	4. The Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron Shan has been abducted by the Revanites and has a chat with Revan himself. Meanwhile, Altrethir and his apprentices try to locate their kidnapped operative.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains themes of torture! Descriptions are non-graphic.

_“Preposterous,” Sen’tulo slammed her hand on the table.“_ _That course of action will result in_ _hundreds_ _of Imperial casualties_ _!_ _”_

_“The body count doesn’t matter,” said another_ _Lord of the Sith. “If we make our point, then we won’t have to teach these traitors_ _another lesson.”_

_“_ _Sen’tulo, my friend,” the Lord called Zas_ _h said. “_ _In case it’s slipped your mind, we are on the brink of_ war _. The Treaty of Coruscant_ _can only hold a certain amount of stress before it tears.”_

_“We gain more_ _defectors when we lash out at civilians_ _,”Sen’tulo said._ _“_ _This is not justice; what you and Zaelas are suggesting is_ massacre _._ _”_

 _“_ _We strike fear into their hearts so that they don’t forget their places,” Zaelas said,_ _pushing himself from his seat. He towered above Sen’tulo, and she knew he was trying to intimidate her. She only met his_ _hard stare with a glare of her own. “The superior must control the lesser._ _Eliminate the weak if we have to. This has always been the way of the Sith,” Zaelas continued._

_Sen’tulo bit her tongue. She exchanged a look with Zash—who was still calmly seated at the table._ _She looked back to Zaelas and dipped her head in a small bow. “If you’ll excuse me.”_

_She turned and left, the door whizzing closed behind her._ _Her apprentice sat silently on a nearby lounge chair, his eyes shut in meditation. But when she approached,_ _he looked up to her before standing. “Master.” Altrethir paused, reading her expression. “You are troubled.”_

_“_ _Those who I call my friends only ever disagree with what I say. That is all,” Sen’tulo brushed one of her lekku behind her shoulder then beckoned for Altrethir to follow._ _They made their way to the lift, entering before pressing the button to take them down._

_Altrethir could still sense her uneasiness and frustrations._ _He wouldn’t inquire further, but it seemed as though he didn’t need to._

 _“The Empire fails because_ _it carelessly defeats itself within its own ranks_ _,” Sen’tulo said. “_ _We backstab each other, betray_ _our_ _friends and loved ones regularly._ _We slaughter_ _our own innocents just to send a message._ _We are defeated before the battle with the Republic_ _even begins_ _.”_

_Altrethir swallowed dryly. He shifted in place, uncertain of how to respond._

_“_ _Our actions will always have consequences, apprentice. Be wiser than those_ _who foolishly ignore the results of their poor choices._ _”_

* * *

Theron’s eyes fluttered open. 

He looked around. Where in the hell was he? His head pounded and his gut _ached_. 

Wincing in pain, he straightened his posture—and quickly realized that his arms were bound. _Okay, stay calm. Don’t move too sharply, otherwise you’ll hurt yourself._

He moved his fingers and tried wiggling his hands. His bracers had been removed—the same bracers that allowed him use of darts and other utilities. Tools that would have been ideal to have on hand in his current predicament. And his jacket was also gone, tossed on a stool in the corner of the room. 

He observed his surroundings—which were lacking in pleasing aesthetics. The room was moderately lit and he could make out storage containers, counters and some mess of supplies in the near distance. But the architecture of the room, from what he could tell, hardly looked like anything he’d seen on Rishi. 

A secret base? 

Memories of the fight prior to his abduction rushed into his head. He recalled his attackers’ garbs, the Force-user who worked a mind trick to put him to sleep, and--. 

_Lana_.

Theron clenched his jaw. What the hell had she done? She’d held back Jakarro, preventing the Wookie from helping him fend off at least four attackers. She didn’t do anything to help him, as if she wanted him to be kidnapped. 

He narrowed his eyes. 

This was some sort of scheme—a scheme that maybe he would have agreed to go along with, but that didn’t matter much now. This was a plot to get him inside enemy lines. He was going to learn anything he could and bring it back. 

Assuming he’d even get out of here. 

He heard a door hiss open. He shifted in his seat, focusing on the masked Revanites who walked in. And with them, Revan himself. 

Theron bit the inside of his cheek, already in the process of prepping his cybernetic defenses. They were going to try and pick information from his brain—but, fortunately, he had tricks of his own to prevent that. 

But he’d still feel the pain. 

“My own flesh and blood,” Revan said, approaching Theron nonchalantly. “Long have I wanted to meet my descendants. But to see that they oppose me…” 

“I don’t need to agree with anything you’re doing, regardless if we’re related,” Theron said, glaring. He could feel Revan watching him, observing. He felt a chill run down his spine—maybe he attempted some sort of mind trick to test him. Theron averted his gaze. 

“Perhaps you have a point,” Revan continued. “Familial ties shouldn’t dictate our agreement. But I know what you fight for— _who_ you fight for. You fight for a free, just galaxy. I, too, want just that.” 

“But your methods aren’t going to help the galaxy. You’re going to _destroy_ it.” 

“You don’t fully understand the sacrifices that must be made in order to achieve our goals.” 

Theron huffed in amusement. He knew _damn_ well what it took. “Manipulation? Destroying Tython? Korriban? Sneaking Revanites agents into Republic and Imperial forces? You could have picked a side to come straight to. There wasn’t any need for—for whatever this mess has been!” 

“And it can all end. I’m close to my goal, I need only take a few more steps. Help me, Theron. No one else needs to die. Your cooperation will benefit us all.” 

Revan had presented what he wanted. Good. Theron would play on that to acquire information. But first, he’d need to sell an act. 

“No,” Theron said with a sneer. “I won’t.” 

Revan was silent. His head tipped just slightly to the side as a low hum of thought sounded from him. Theron braced himself for whatever was to result from his defiance. 

“Perhaps I can persuade you.” Revan reached down, keeping his fingers hovering just beside Theron’s temple. 

And Theron’s headache worsened. What was originally only mild discomfort quickly progressed into sharp pain. His fingers clenched behind his back and his eyes squeezed shut. His cybernetic defenses could only shield so much; once that barrier had been penetrated, the pain was numbing. 

A throaty, agonizing cry escaped him. What was only seconds of torture felt like hours—he wanted it to _stop_. Theron’s chest heaved with each breath as he heard maddening whispers in his head, tempting to sway him into insanity. He tried techniques the Jedi taught him in his youth to silence the voices but to no avail; Revan quickly overpowered him. 

Then the pain let up. Theron’s body released some of its tension as he bowed forward, head hanging. 

“Your ability to resist is impressive,” Revan said, “but I am more powerful than anyone who’s interrogated you before.” 

Theron’s thoughts were scattered and it took him a moment to gather them back up. He didn’t even fully comprehend what Revan said. He straightened back up to the best of his ability. As much as he didn’t want to go through that hell again, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to convince Revan that he was giving up already. “The Republic will put a stop to this,” Theron said, laying his bait. 

“The Republic and Empire are mere distractions: Distractions that will soon be dealt with.” 

Revan reached into his mind again. And Theron gnashed his teeth as he felt thousands of pins piercing his head. His ears rang, the pitch deafening, and his eyes flew wide open with fear. He leaned forward, pulling against his restraints, as he gave into a scream of agony. 

Then the pain was lifted. Theron slumped in his chair, trying to grasp at his thoughts and sanity before it could flee. 

“The Republic and Empire have no business meddling in my plans. They’re hindering my goal, and they’ll destroy themselves in the process. I’ll make sure of it.” 

Theron struggled to listen, but what Revan said was too crucial to ignore. They’d destroy themselves—what did that mean? No one else in the Empire or Republic knew about what was going on. Unless, of course, Revan had even more puppets he was controlling inside the factions. 

Theron swallowed dryly. He slowly sat back upright, “And what... what would be my fate if I decided to help you?” 

“Survival. Not only for you—but for the Republic, too. And the people you care about.” 

“Is that a threat?” 

“No.” Revan paused, taking hold of the back of Theron’s chair. “The Emperor must be destroyed. There is no one else in the galaxy who can defeat him. This is what I was destined to do.” 

“You’ve found him?” 

“He has resided dormant on the fourth moon of Yavin. He’s gathering power. He must be destroyed before it’s too late.”

 _Perfect_. Theron now had a motive, a location, and other little details that would be helpful to have—whenever they made sense of them. He just had to get out of this place. 

Then, Revan paused and took a slow look around. He pushed himself from Theron’s chair and spoke to his followers. “Extract any more information you can from him, then bring him onboard my battlecruiser once he’s spent. We need every advantage we can get.” 

And Theron watched him leave. He glared hard at the two Revanites, resetting his implants to barricade his mind from their own attempts of torture. 

* * *

Another assassin droid fell in two pieces, clattering against the wooden floor. Xalek’s blade whizzed past another droid as it sliced its head clean off. Ashara stood not too far ahead; her own blades deflected and parried oncoming blasterfire from a moderate-sized group of droids. She fended off the ranged attackers while Altrethir battled with two Revanites—and he seemed to have his own work cut out for him. 

Once Xalek’s foe fell, he leapt into Ashara’s group of droids and began to mow them down with little effort. They were so focused on her that they didn’t notice a new opponent enter the fight. 

Altrethir defended himself against his attackers with calculated movements. He led them back, closer toward a wall with several pipes. And when one suddenly brought their lightsaber down upon him, he lurched out of the way—and their blade cut through the metal, hot air and fumes bursting into their face. 

With one Revanite dealing with their injury, he took the advantage and wasted no time in lashing out at the other. One mere acolyte was no match for a Darth. They were soon overwhelmed and his crimson blade sliced through their torso, and they collapsed against the floor. 

As Altrethir turned to finish his work, Xalek had already rushed over to swipe the injured Revanite’s head clean off. 

The final droid fell as Ashara deflected its blaster bolt straight back into it. She looked around for any additional droids before jogging over to Altrethir and Xalek. “Where do we go from here?” she asked. 

“By now, the Jedi should have the lower levels of the base infiltrated. We continue,” Altrethir said. 

This was definitely the right place, otherwise it wouldn’t be so heavily-guarded. Together, the three of them plowed through armed battledroids and Revanites until their path was blocked by a large metal door. 

“Focus. Let your passions fuel your strength.” Altrethir reached out, his apprentices following suit, as they slowly began to open the door with the Force. It separated with loud creaking noises, eventually locking into place. The three rushed through. 

Ashara and Xalek ignited their blades but Altrethir hesitated. There were no droids, and he sensed no Revanites. Still, he kept the hilt of his saber in his grasp, finger on the ignition button just in case. 

Toward the center of—what appeared to be—the cargo room sat a holotable, a button flashing red at its console. Someone was trying to hail the base. 

“Be watchful,” Altrethir told his apprentices. He moved toward the console and clicked the communicator on. Revan’s image appeared in blue light. 

“Enough of this,” Revan said. “You’ve killed my spies, destroyed my bases, and destroyed my allies. For what? Some answers?” 

“I would have reached out directly to you had I known you’d be so cordial,” Altrethir said coolly. “Matters only escalated when you decided to coordinate assaults on Tython and Korriban.” He paused, waving a hand dismissively. “I am not here to argue, though. You have an ally of mine that I’ve come to reclaim.” 

“Is that so?” Revan huffed in amusement. “Your ally has been persuaded into making the right choice. He recognized what needed to be done to restore peace to the galaxy—and if you’re as smart as your reputation holds you to, Darth Nox, you’d do the same.” 

Altrethir loosely folded his arms over his chest. 

“I know of my followers on Dromund Kaas. I know what transpired during your visit, years ago. Back then, you were a doe-eyed but promising apprentice. And now, you are a Dark Lord of the Sith. You’ve practically risen to the top, but there is still more to your story. Do not let your power go to waste. Help me restore peace, Darth Nox.” 

Xalek exchanged a look with Ashara but the two kept silent. They didn’t have their doubts about their master, and they didn’t even feel his contemplation. But Altrethir let his arms fall back at his sides as he tipped his chin up toward Revan, his expression blank. 

“Where is Theron Shan?” 

Revan paused, and Altrethir noticed his fists clenching just slightly. “Reconsider your allegiance, Nox. Know that I offered you the chance to bring peace and security to the galaxy, and you declined.” 

The call was ended. 

“Come,” Altrethir told his apprentices. “I feel that we’re getting close. Help me lift this door.” 

* * *

Theron gasped for air as the pressure around his windpipe suddenly released. He coughed and groaned, growing tired of these damn mind games. He couldn’t do much—all of his gear was in a pile on a stool. 

He must have been staring at it; one of the Revanites turned to look at whatever he was looking at. 

And Theron could play along with that. 

“No,” he cried. “No! Not those, please!” 

The Revanite sauntered over toward his gear and plucked up one of his bracers, letting it dangle from their fingers. “Afraid of your own tricks?” they taunted. 

Theron watched them try and figure out how the device on his bracer worked. But when he saw them point the opposite end of the tiny barrel toward him, he winced. “Please, no! I’m begging, please!” 

And in the moment it took for the Revanite to look at it, Theron muttered the command to send a dart flying out. It pierced his foe in their neck and they yelped, immediately plucking it out. They growled in frustration and took a step forward—then promptly fell face-first onto the floor. The toxin was enough to stun them for a good hour, and that was all the time he needed. 

The other Revanite snatched him by the back of his head and forced him to look up to them. “You think you’re clever?” 

Theron gritted his teeth, wiggling just enough to shift his legs. He used what momentum he could to land a solid kick to the Revanite’s gut, sending them stumbling back. They growled, drawing their lightsaber and rushing toward Theron. Acting quickly, he spun in his chair, arched his back and hoped for the best. 

The lightsaber cut through his bonds, sliced the back of the metal chair and grazed his back in the process. Theron shouted painfully but didn’t have any more time to react to his new injury. He lurched for his blaster, snatching it up and firing at the Revanite. They blocked the shots and pulled his blaster toward them with the Force. 

Theron scrambled to find another weapon whilst dodging the swipes of his opponent's blade. He took the unconscious Revanite’s lightsaber and ignited it—and he was more than thankful that he had _some_ training with one of these, even if it had been years since he was taught. 

Their blades clashed. Theron was able to hold his own quite well, but he couldn’t do much more than defend. And he was also at the disadvantage of not being able to use the Force like his foe. 

He took a breath. 

And when he saw an opening, he went for it. Theron pivoted away from a jab of the other’s blade, then swiped to cut their arm clean off. And he hesitated just before finishing the job with a fierce slash to their torso. The Revanite keeled over, dead. 

He gathered his gear—his bracers, blasters, jacket and gloves—and made for the exit. 

Oh, he’d have _words_ for Lana when he got back. He’d been so focused on everything that he nearly forgot how angry he was about this whole set-up. Maybe it’d work. It was crazy—dare he even say it was his style—but at least he had the courtesy to tell his allies what they’d be getting into. 

He turned a corner while pulling on his other glove, stopping as he heard lightsabers slashing through metal. The Revanites were destroying their own droids? Or-… 

He approached the doorway cautiously and took a subtle peek around the corner. And he locked eyes with a Kaleesh Sith. He blinked, and before he could react, the Sith was charging toward him, saberstaff ignited. Theron ducked back behind the corner and knelt behind a stack of crates, but that’d only buy him a short amount of time. 

He heard the intimidating hum of the Sith’s blade. He fidgeted in place, biting his swollen lip as he tried to anticipate what he’d do next. 

“Xivhkalrainik,” called a familiar voice. “By my side.” 

Theron felt a wave of relief wash over him. He refrained from sighing audibly, still uncertain if this Sith would try and kill him or not. But the sound of his blade quieted until it was gone completely, and then Theron deemed it safe to come out from his hiding spot. 

As he took another look out into the main room, he saw Nox and two other Force-users with him—one of which was the Kaleesh. 

“Thank the stars,” Theron said, exhausted. 

“Agent Shan,” Nox greeted. “You are injured. Come, we’re taking you to our new headquarters.” 

Theron nodded in agreement and took a few steps to catch up with them. But a sharp pain in his gut made him stop in his tracks, and he reached out to a nearby crate to steady himself. He saw Nox looking to him with uncertainty, so he gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’m all right. I just need a second.” 

“We haven’t the time to spare, I’m afraid.” Nox quickly approached, extending an arm out to help him. 

Theron accepted, leaning on and into him as they made their escape. “Thanks for the rescue,” he muttered. 

“No thanks are needed, agent. I owed you a rescue after your assistance in Raider’s Cove.” 

Theron huffed in amusement. “Guess you did.” 

* * *

“Found out where Revan’s heading, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s lured both Republic and Imperial fleets out here to kill each other,” Theron said. “It’ll be a bloodbath. They fight each other, the Revanites ambush them.” 

“You gathered a list of spies on both Republic and Imperial ships, Theron?” Altrethir asked. 

“I did.” 

“Then we must contact the ships directly. The captains, or whoever is head of command.” 

“Intel says that your buddy Darth Marr is on the Imperial flagship. And Grandmaster Satele Shan is leading the Republic.” 

“The Revanites have set up a signal-jammer,” Lana said. “Contacting any of the ships is impossible without destroying it. They’ve also installed anti-air defenses around the perimeter of the jammer. Bombardment would be suicide.” 

“Jedi, are you and your crew capable of leading a ground assault to disable the jammer?” Altrethir said. 

“We are,” Alu’na said. “What will you be doing?” 

“I will remain here so that I can contact the Imperial ship. There should be a console by the jammer; with that, you will be able to contact the Republic. If anyone can convince Darth Marr and the Grandmaster to call off the attacks, it would be us, Jedi.” 

“Fair enough. I’ll gather my crew right away. Ah—I'll leave my medic with you so that Theron’s wounds can be treated.” 

“No, it’s okay,” Theron said. “I can diagnose and heal myself. You’ll probably need him on the battlefield, anyway.” 

“Agent Alamor,” Altrethir continued, “head to the control bunker to take down the anti-air defenses. The bunker is within proximity to the signal-jammer; you and the Jedi will be able to clear a path together.” 

“Yes, my lord,” Alamor said. 

“Time is of the essence. Make haste.” 

Alu’na and Alamor left with their crew, leaving just Lana, Jakarro, Theron and Altrethir by themselves. And Altrethir could feel the tension—he didn’t even need the Force to sense it. Theron scowled at Lana before turning on his heel and making his way to a medic kit. 

Altrethir caught his gaze before slowly exiting the small hut that was their new headquarters. He made his way down a path, toward the sparkling cerulean river. For a moment, it was as if war wasn’t about to wage above their heads. The calm before the storm, as it were. 

He clasped his hands behind his back, watching the horizon for Revanites or something or other. And when he heard rustling behind him, the corner of his lip twitched into a faint smirk. “Agent.” 

“I don’t want to be in the same room as her,” Theron mumbled, wrapping a bandage around his arm. 

“I am aware. I am flattered that you would, instead, seek my own company.” 

Theron blinked. Was that teasing? Flirting? Or was he just exhausted and misinterpreting his words entirely? His face flushed and he had a hard time forming words for all but a second. “I—no, well. I just...” He took a breath. “I’m pretty sure Lana arranged my kidnapping.” 

“Of that, I am also aware.” 

Theron huffed. “She's unbelievable. We could’ve gotten that intel by using different methods. None of this had to happen.” 

“What is done is done. Your minds work differently; perhaps she saw no other alternatives.” 

“Still would’ve been nice to know what she was planning.” Theron moved beside the other man, keeping a distance still. He wasn’t sure why he was rambling to him—a _Sith_ of all people. Jakarro wasn’t much for conversation, and he was furious with Lana. Guess it made sense to talk to the only one left out of the bunch. 

“You spoke with Revan,” Altrethir said, redirecting the topic. 

“Yeah. Did more than _talk_.” 

Altrethir gave him a quizzical look. 

“He got into my head. Did some... torture stuff. I don’t want to elaborate.” 

“I understand. Were there any other details of your conversation you’d care to talk about? Anything that you couldn’t bring up in our meeting?” 

“No. Everything that was relevant was presented.” 

Altrethir hummed in thought. “Revan spoke to me through a holocall. He said you joined him.” 

“Yeah, I’ll bet that’s what he wants to think. Guess that means I sold the act.” 

A faint smile of amusement found Altrethir’s features, and Theron caught just a glimpse of it. And _stars_ —his heart fluttered. He took delight in knowing that he got him to smile like that. That he was able to say something to elicit that grin. And he found it attractive when he knew he shouldn’t. 

Perhaps that was the entire appeal. 

“A brilliant fighter, an outstanding actor, and an expert slicer. The SIS was foolish to let you go.” 

Theron’s heart sank, as if Altrethir had just slapped him with a glove of reality. “Ah, yeah. Well—I mean, I understand why they did. I probably would have done the same in their shoes. But I’m not giving up on the Republic.” 

“I wouldn’t have expected you to,” Altrethir said, shifting to face him a bit better. “I find your determination admirable, agent. You are willing to take these risks to save the faction you’re fighting for, even if they may currently condemn you for it.” 

Theron gave a small nod, not expecting a reply like that. He didn’t feel like he was talking to an actual Dark Council member. “If no one else does it, it could mean the end for the Republic. But you’d probably feel indifferent about that, huh? Might even be happy.” 

Altrethir made no reply. 

“Sorry,” Theron muttered. “That was a little much.” 

“So long as I am allied with the Empire, I shall oppose the Republic. But that does not mean I wish to see its people suffer.” 

“You’re the weirdest, most bizarre Sith I’ve met, Nox. And I’ve met a lot of crazy Sith. But none of them kept this—this sort of composure you’ve got.” 

“They lack control of their emotions and thus fall victim to them. They devour themselves. A Sith falling to their own madness is a tale as old as time, and yet we still do not take precautions.” Altrethir’s brow furrowed as he spoke, frustration clear in his expression. “If there is to ever be peace in the galaxy, the Empire must change. The _Sith_ must change.” He paused and took a breath. “We should make contact with our allies.” 

“Yeah. We should. I’ll be right behind you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! I'm having a lot of fun writing this fic <3 I post swtor shenanigans on my tumblr @blueburds, and art over at @kitblueburdart! And a big thank-you to user Sleepswithvillains for helping me edit this chapter!


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